


Dungeons and Crippling Social Anxiety

by Birdy5678



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13882659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdy5678/pseuds/Birdy5678
Summary: There were three things Natsuki was certain of:1.) She only had three health potions left in her inventory.2.) She'd forgotten to lock the outside door.3.) The raid boss that lay in front of her, its countless teeth convulsing into a grin, was certainly not Yuri.





	1. "Where the fuck is Monika?!"

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm mainly writing this to take a break from Cloud 9, don't get me wrong, I have a story to tell and I will see that I finish it, but I wan't to try my hand at something new. A fic that's just a little bit more wholesome.

Clutching her wand tightly and readjusting her witches hat, Natsuki prepared her fighting stance as she stared at the monster ahead of her. It was big, towering over her form as its grip upon the wooden club tightened; its eyes red and its nose fuming.

She was certainly not used to this.

Give her a level twenty minotaur, sure, she’d be able to knock that thing out in an instant; burn it into nothingness. But this was a level fifty-eight; far above her skill set. Knowing this, Natsuki readied herself and her potions- if she was going down, she was going down with a fight.

The minotaur stumbled towards her, it’s crimson eyes being the only thing illuminating the dark forest as it raised its club high above its head. Natsuki waited- a determination that came with playing the game, making her feel as though she was invincible against any threat thrown her way- until the club rushed forth to meet the cold and unforgiving ground bellow, dodging the swipe and feeling the world shake and reverberate throughout her body, Natsuki charged the spell she’d all but memorized at this point.

It was a simple thing, but with tuning and practice it could become something deadly, something that could take down even the biggest of foes presented before her; but she wasn’t at that point, and the hope that it would do a substantial amount of damage was but a dim ember in the fire-heart of her will. 

The words surged out of her mouth, flickering with each syllable uttered, travelling to the Elder-Oak of her wand before erupting out in a valley of screaming and searing flame, consuming everything in its fiery path; its teeth, red and sweltering, sink into the flesh of its hulking opponent. 

4 damage.

The thing has 40 hit points.

“Are you shitting me?!” Natsuki shouted as the forest erupted in flame. The minotaur screeched in simulated pain as its flesh seared and blistered- those blisters eventually popping in the heat of it found itself ingulfed in; it was disgusting, but it made Natsuki feel as though she was in control, that she had the ability to inflict pain upon the monsters she so hated. 

Discarding her used spell slot, anger flared within as she looked at the hit points of her own- 23/30. With an audible sigh of annoyance, the pink-haired dwarf scanned her surroundings, hoping that whatever opening revealed itself would lead to the central hub. 

Preparing her next spell, and with only three slots left after a strenuous three-hour grind; hope for keeping the items she’s found within the forbidden forest found itself to be that of an all-time low.  
But it was still there, no matter how dim it may have seemed.

It resided in the form of her friends, only requiring the low price of sucking up her pride and accepting that this monster was above her skill set, and that she’s never be able to stand up for herself.

The creature charged at her, fire consuming the creature, and overpowering the red in its eyes. The fire seared her skin as she pushed through, narrowly missing the earth-shattering blow originating from the muscled mass of the minotaur.

The fire chunked off an extra 5 points as her player character screamed in pain, her cloak engulfed in flames.

This was bad, and she knew that the worst had certainly come to worst. Her hand found itself wrapped around the crystal as she forced herself to come to terms with the decision she was about to make.

The crystal glows and the menu explodes into existence, a beautiful cascade of blues and greens; a stark yet small contrast to the blazing yellows and oranges that the forest soon found itself in.

Trees splinter and crash to the floor beneath as the hulking beast forces its way through the flame, its health ticking away, much to the relief of Natsuki. The only bad news being that of the fact that she was still on fire, and the flame’s teeth were not forgiving. 

Perusing her way through the menu’s seemingly never-ending tutorials and ads, Natsuki finally found it; her raiding party. Praying that at the very least one of her friends were online, Natsuki sent a party-wide invite- a shot in the dark with the vain and diminishing chance that its untrue aim would find its mark.

Sayori was the first to join, causing Natsuki to groan. 

With an explosion of light, a cacophony of blues and greens, the healer smiled brightly at her friend. “Heya Natsu-.” Her voice, cheery and bouncy like that of a rubber ball, cuts short when her surroundings finally load in “What did you do?!” She shouted, quickly summoning her staff as the lumbering beast charged nearer and nearer. 

“You tell me!” Natsuki shouted in response, annoyance overtaking her as her blistered and mangled body screamed in virtual pain “Can you just heal me?! For fucks sake!” The staff glows a brilliant yellow, that same yellow soon coursing its way throughout Natsuki’s wounded form, mending torn skin and deep cuts. 

“Where the hell is Monika?” Natsuki shouted, her battle stance ready and two of her three spell-slots mended together, forming one gargantuan spell that she hoped would serve some purpose in this fight for survival, and loot. 

“I don’t know!” Sayori shouted as she prepared a spell slot of her own. “How do you not know?! She’s your bloody girlfriend!” Natsuki shouted back, anger soon replacing annoyance “We were playing earlier- she said she had to go wash the dishes; I think.” The hulking beast was closer, its form towering the two now, its wooden cub- ignited in flames- now raised far above its head and covering the blood-moon above. 

“Ready?” Natsuki asked, a certain uncertainty masked by an attempt at confidence that only Monika could conjure; Sayori only nodded, flashing a grin that made Natsuki almost forgive her.

The club rushes to meet the earth as Natsuki utters the words of the ancients- an eldritch and aged hand erupting from the nothingness of the cosmos. The hand is quick, wrapping around the wood of the club, quivering as it struggles to keep its strength.

Sayori utters the words of the present- a beam of lightening erupting out of her staff, striking through the screaming beast and sending blue flame coursing through its body.

20 points of damage- the most she’d ever inflicted- Sayori whooped. 

Now at 26 hit points, the creature staggers as its form connects to the ground beneath. 

“I think we got this!” Sayori shouted her, her volume higher than any Desert Serpent could muster. Natsuki rolls her eyes and smirks “Don’t get ahead of yourself Sayori, the fucker’s still standing.”

The Eldritch hand curls into a fist, striking its foe at break-neck speed as it attempts to rise once more. 

6 points of damage, now leaving the creature at only 20 hit points.

The minotaur roars with anger as its sweltering skin turns into a shade of crimson, “What the he-.” With a sickening crunch, tendrils tear from its sides, their abyssal forms caked in crimson, like that of the minotaur they just erupted from. 

The minotaur’s name changes to Abyss-caked minotaur.

Its hit points rise to 25, its health bar now caked with a layer of steel- signifying that of armour.

This was certainly above what the two were capable of taking on together.

“Oh are you fucking kidding me!” Raising her wand and preparing her final spell-slot with one hand, Natsuki switched to the menu, sending a flurry of invites with the other. Her witches hat, now burnt and tearing, rests loyally upon her pink and curly hair. The Abyss-caked minotaur rises, its club now reduced to ashes, raises its muscled hand to the side.

It is faster than before, giving the two-little time to strategize as its hand slaps the two apart. 

Her back crashes against the oak of the flaming trees, splintering and shattering her form against it as her eyes find themselves transfixed upon the peaceful sky above. The stars are limitless, infinite and void- ever expanding, ever contorting- Natsuki couldn’t help but wish for that herself. To have control over her life, to be able to abandon the real-world and escape into whatever world would be appropriate, suitable for her and her only. And as the creature roars and roars, she couldn’t help but feel the sharp and terrible pangs of a sadness she couldn’t describe, and a loneliness just as indescribable following suit. 

Natsuki found herself accepting her fate, and the subsequent loss of her hard-earned items as well, the gold and the copious amounts of silver that would finally allow her to forge the final set of boots- completing her armour set. 

Its arms raise to the sky, its tendrils wrapping around them, super charging the blow soon to be delivered, soon to take her to the safety of the inn; where she’d groan and force herself to do the same amount of grinding; hoping for a different outcome that time, and only to die- rinse and repeat. 

But it never did connect to her form beneath. 

With an explosion of blue and green light, sparkling in the fire consumed forest, the fighter joins the party. Her gilded armour shining in the brilliant orange, her sword- a moonlight blue- glows warmly, her eyes- hidden underneath her gold encrusted helmet- a brilliant jade, shine with an assertive playfulness that glints with something beneath it all, and her shield- radiating of safety and warmth- puts the two at ease.

Monika raises her sword, is blue hue glinting in the eyes of the crestfallen party members, igniting the flames of hope within as they stand up.

Her health at a staggering low, Natsuki’s breaths are heavy and tired, the witches hat gone from its place perched upon her head- gone with the currents of the wind. 

“Get up, scrubs.” Natsuki could’ve sworn that the smirk upon Monika’s face was visible. 

Taking a look in her inventory, she let out a groan at the realization that she was out of health potions, and that the herbs she’d gathered were reduced to nothing but ash. 

The forest groans in pain as trees collapse to the surprisingly cold ground below, preparing her final spell-slot once more, charging up with the remnants of her magika, Natsuki- her legs trembling with pain she’d never be able to feel- rose to her feet. 

Sayori, now by Monika’s side, prepared another of her healing spells to give to her party member. “Jeez, you do not look good.” She smiles, her hair a mess and her robe in tatters. 

“Yeah, we leave you alone for five seconds, and you’re basically dead.” On a different day, Natsuki would’ve flung all the vulgarities she could muster, from elfish tongue, to dwarf tongue, even winter drake; but now, the desperation for keeping her loot far overpowered her pride, biting her tongue; Natsuki only sighed. 

The creature, hulking and heavy, eldritch and angry, charges at the group; the three charging forward as well.

Monika takes the lead, rising her shield to the sky, her sword glinting with moonlight and her confidence ever-powerful.

Natsuki, surged with the yellow strands of healing magic, charges her last spell-slot, her spell selected and the words ready to fly.

And Sayori, her staff radiating the yellow strands of healing magic, a grin plastered upon her face and the words of the present reverberating within the depths of her mind.

The fight is long and tiring- Natsuki summons the words of the old-a surge of dark energy rushing forth and consuming the monster and igniting with light; searing the skin of their foe.

The sword finds its place in the minotaur’s leg, sending it crashing to the floor as it screams in pain; its armour long gone.

Her staff, glowing a crimson hue, charges to its fullest capacity as Sayori mumbled the words of the present; red tendrils erupt from the crystal situated upon its centre, striking through its heart.

The creature, dead, crashes to the floor beneath as the three sigh with relief. 

The walk back is loud, rambunctious, and cool as the party depart from the burning forest.

Sayori sings songs, they are loud, off tune, and terrible- but the two still appreciate them nonetheless.

Monika tells jokes; they’re corny and equally terrible- but the two still laugh nonetheless.

And Natsuki smiles; they’re small and frail things, rare and wonderful- but the two still relish in the treat.


	2. The Girl in the Bookstore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsuki finds herself in a bookstore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is how this fic is going to play out- in one chapter, we'll be having more fantasy based stuff, in another, we'll be taking a look at the real-world.

Chapter 2

The ceiling above her is that of a faded and dying pink, it’s a terrible shade that does nothing to help the already depressing and messy room Natsuki finds herself in. This is her room, except its not. If this room- with its strewn clothes and torn folder paper- were truly her room, it would be a giant one, torches emblazoning the red walls, see-through fabric acting as barriers that only shown as much as it hidden. Armour sets would line said walls, witch’s hats lying loyally upon the mannequin’s heads, a firm reminder of the accomplishments she’d done.

In the centre of this make-belief room would be a dragon’s head, its mouth opened in a never-ending snarl; and a bed, the softest thing in the world, would be decorated with rose petals and books- so many manga and spell books that one could be driven insane with glee.

Whatever room she’d currently found herself stuck in was certainly not her room.

The phone lies in her hand dead, a firm reminder of her inability to communicate with the outside world, true, she could leave; but that would be too much trouble, too risky of a move for her to take now.

Even if the bed upstairs is squeaking and muffled moans emit from that terrible shade of pink above her. 

The day- before it had come to this barrier- had been one of yelling and laughing and fun, it had been one where she could have relaxed with her friends, mic rested upon her pink and curly hair as she and her party members began planning their raid- a complex and dangerous thing that two out of the three had thought to be an impossible task.

But that all came to a halt with the front door slamming open and the loud and infuriating sounds from her dad and that whore he’d brought with her.

After she’d gotten off, Natsuki switched on her phone to make a fabricated rant about the power shutting off, subsequently causing her early departure; the two had been understanding, and for that she was grateful for.

She’d have to remind herself that she truly did value her friends, and their opinions of her- no matter how annoying they sometimes were.

Stretching her back upon the lumpy mattress situated upon the dirty carpet of her ‘room’s’ floor, Natsuki considered plugging in her phone again, perhaps text in the group chat, continue the strategizing of a raid she’d long since given up on.   
But perhaps Monika and Sayori would prefer some alone time, and soon she finds her face buried with than that same lumpy and uncomfortable mattress that reeks of the faint stench of alcohol and smoke. 

The world outside of her is soon blanketed in oranges and red, reminding her of the very same forest she’d narrowly escaped with the help of a high-elf healer and a human fighter- Monika and Sayori.

Briefly going over what little she’d known of them, Natsuki settled with the notion that she’d move in with Sayori when she’d finally rid herself of the pink prison she’d found herself stuck in for eighteen and a half years.

Sayori lived in Texas, and that’s all she knew about it- but the heat that the state provided would be better than having to endure the harsh winters of.

But what if it got too hot? Then maybe Monika, who currently attended an art school somewhere in London would suffice? No, too cold.

With a small and inaudible sigh escaping her chaffed and split lips, Natsuki settled on Sayori, she’d certainly be more accepting of having a roommate around, as referenced by her late-night vents in skype calls- but that was more directed towards Monika, and the inability to hold her, hug her, and kiss her. 

And then there was the problem of bringing it up in a conversation; how she’d have to explain why she’d chosen to live with her, swallowing her pride to do so.

Then there was buying a plane ticket; or even being able to scrounge up enough money to even pay for a ticket. Sure, she’d done it before, but that was for local concerts that she’d had an interest in; this was an entirely different ball game. 

Perhaps the idea of being able to live with one of her friends was a mere fantasy, a fantasy that would never come true, a fantasy only thought about when loneliness overpowered everything else.

Maybe she was foolish for even considering it a possibility. 

Natsuki could no longer bear the silence that was only sometimes interrupted by moaning and squeaking.

Standing up, fastening her shoes upon her feet and blanketing her over-sized jacket over her frail and bruised form, Natsuki set out for the outside world; the one quest she’d never looked forward to taking that twilight.

The loud ruckus of bleating cars and trucks, stuck in a never-ending conglomeration of smog and oil- the two things she hated the most.

The buildings tower over her, staring down like Gods perched high above the clouds, the first things to see the sky darken to a purple as the cosmos return- hidden by the veil of pollution. The city she took a bus to get to is bright, hurting her eyes as she forces her way through the never-ending sea of flesh and clothing; anxiety subsequently welling up in her mind as pangs of fear sound within.

The bookstore’s warm glow of yellow serves as a beacon of hope in a world of blues, reds, greens, and greys; so close yet so far.

Mumbling a spell of protection- a spell Sayori had casted countless of times, from facing the Gargoyles of Split-Rock Gully, to the Baroths of the Sand Wastes; the spell often found itself being used in a multitude of creative and innovative ways- and wrapping her hands upon the bronze of the door handle, Natsuki entered the book store.

It’s warm and inviting glow certainly had delivered upon its promise of an equally warm and inviting interior; to the right corner rests a small indoor café, from which one could order coffee and choose from variety of small and delectable treats. 

Towards the left of the book store rests the wooden giants, their innards emblazoned with books, each holding an entirely new world that begins on the same page, ending on the last- or maybe the second to last, if the author suddenly finds them compelled to write their life story on the last.

Stretching her back and tying her jacket to her waist, Natsuki made a quick survey of her surroundings, like a witch preparing to enter the Place Where Flesh Sings for the first time. 

There it is, two bookcases situated in the back, two lone soldiers facing hoards of thick tomes that contained no pictures, a thought Natsuki often found herself shuddering at. 

She’d read most of the manga, clearing out one bookcase and now focusing her attention to that of the next.

The mangas sometimes branched out of her tastes, and often found themselves strewn halfway through, but it wasn’t for the lack of trying. 

Standing on her tippy-toes and outstretching her arms to reach the book at the top, Natsuki prays that the first manga of the shelf wasn’t complete and utter trash.

Her attempts at reaching the book are quickly snuffed out with the entry of a purple-haired girl. 

The mystery girl’s skin is that of a porcelain white, complementing her equally purple eyes quite well; Natsuki had to admit.

Her...posture is obscured by a large and baggy turtle-neck sweater that seems way too hot to be wearing indoors (as referenced by the beads of sweat forming upon her forehead.) in her hands is that of a tome; a leather thing with an eye drawn in the centre with white paint ‘So she’s into Lovecraft.’ Natsuki mentally rolled her eyes.

Her face, a stark contrast to her…posture, is not one radiating of confidence, a certain fire within her soul blazing violently, its that of a flustered, and certainly awkward girl hiding within that said fire- mere embers within, now.

“E-exc-excuse me?” She stutters, her voice shaking with the anxiety of interacting with others “Yeah?” her response was certainly much harsher as opposed to that of the quiet and peaceful stuttering that the taller girl emitted. 

Taken aback and her flustered state worsening, the purple-haired snow-elf (human) clears her throat before forcing out her response “Would y-you like some assistance?” A little bolder than the last time.

On a different day, she’d tell this angle to “Fuck off.” And continue attempting at the retrieval of the first book on the top shelf; but the ride here was certainly not a smooth one, and her back was still sore from the asshole who rammed his school bag into her. Swallowing her pride and annoyance, Natsuki forced out another “Yeah.”

The way her back curled as she reached the top shelf with ease, snaking down until finally reaching the round and fir-

The manga was in her hands, and based on its cover, it appears to be trash; a bad sign that only signified that the entirety of this book case was only going to be that of menial trash that she shouldn’t even bother attempt reading. 

But the nice, and certainly attractive lady, was expectantly holding out the first volume for her to take. “Thanks.” She mumbles, taking it, nearly snatching it, quickly. 

“Its no trouble, honestly, I’m just glad to be helping another in their literature-based needs.” She smiles, and its as if the girl she’d been introduced to not five minutes ago had changed into something different; something akin to Monika, her smile warm and inviting.

A new effect finds itself active- blush. 

“U-uh yeah, thanks for the help.” The room feels warmer now.

“So, what are you reading?” The purple-haired giant asks, and Natsuki feels the encompassing want for death over-taking her. “Well- its kinda this thing I’m trying out, where I try read mang- books by their place on the shelf; clearing it out.” An understanding smile flashes across the stranger’s face, her eyes lightening up at the chance of being able to join in on a conversation.

“Oh, really? I myself was doing the same exact thing- what a coincidence!” Her voice, still small and quiet, emits a wonderful sense of excitement that only makes the effect last a longer duration of time. “Well, uh, great minds do think a like?” It sounded more like a question, and Natsuki couldn’t help but groan in frustration at her inability to not sound like an idiot. 

She nods, much to the relief of pink-haired dwarf. 

“P-perhaps…” There it is again, that blush, ever-present, ever consuming her porcelain skin. The way she clears her throat is a beautiful, smooth, with the slight undertakings of something rough; a roughness she still couldn’t wrap her head around “…Perhaps we should read together sometime?” 

Oh.

The effect now finds itself in full swing.

“S-sure, that sounds really nice. Uh, when would you want to do that?” She smiles again, pulling out a fountain pen from the depths of her navy-blue pocket, and jotting down three things: a number, a date, and her name.

Her writing is wonderful, swirling and elegant, small yet bold. The way her “i”s curl at the bottom, the way she writes “t”s, it reeks of a time far gone, a time long dead and long forgotten.

670-6969  
Friday, March 9th   
Yuri.


	3. The Place Where Flesh Sings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party search for an internet rumor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, its been a long time since I've updated this- so here you do.

Thursday  
March 8th  
10:52 P.M. 

The air was hot, dry, stinging to the touch. The ship forces its way through the sand as the witch raises her hands to the sky; sweat finds itself a common sight upon her face, even as it was blanketed by the shadows her hat casted. The world surrounding the party is dead, a seemingly never-ending abyss of sand and death, stretching indefinitely and meeting the red and orange sky somewhere in the distant, hopeful horizon. 

Situated upon the crow’s nest is the Elf healer, her staff clutched in one hand and binoculars in the other; her excitement is unprecedented, a never-ending grin plastered upon her face as sweat falls in strips upon her freckled and elfish face. She’d been standing like that for two hours at that point, silent and still; causing the two below to ponder if she’d gone A.F.K “Sayori?” The Fighter asked when the fear that she truly was A.F.K rose to its peak, Sayori had immediately responded with a “Yeah?” Natsuki wondered which option was truly scary.

“Are you sure there’s something really out there?” Natsuki asks once the boredom reaches to its peak and the playlist she had in the background ends. 

The fighter, Monika, adamant upon her beliefs of the myths on The Place Where Flesh Sings responds with a simple “Of course, my sources are pretty good.” They weren’t. 

Natsuki simply resorts to watching Youtube to fill the time, Monika still steers; a hope that seemingly never dies. 

‘I could’ve been farming more Dedramorons.’ Natsuki thinks to herself miserably. 

Sayori and Monika of course talk; they talk about simple things, their jobs away from this virtual haven, a meme that one of the pair had seen. Yet, there was a certain downcast in the tallest’ s voice, one not easily recognizable; but with time, it would stick out like that of a sore thumb.

Natsuki assumes that the elf will bring it up in a more private conversation, and so lets it be, the moments leading up that could easily be used to ask a question; and hopefully provide some form comfort. Though that notion was menial at best.

They spend time together going over the plan or plans as to what will happen when they finally reach it, the aforementioned place that also happens to have singing flesh. Its spoken about in hushed tones, forums that require a decent level of coding to push past the first barrier, its these things that create her sources. 

“…I got the job!” Sayori exclaims in a conversation Natsuki had been tuning in and out of since the start of the journey. 

Monika’s face flashes a state of hopelessness, one deep in its roots of jealously, an abyss that seemingly never escapes; its only for a second that it flashes, but it seems like an eternity in their eyes.  
“Oh, that’s wonderful love!” She exclaims, it feels forced, as though she never really meant the words said, it leaves a mark upon Sayori, and the conversation falters for only a moment. 

It picks up, though the tone is soiled by that faltering. 

Natsuki takes notice of Monika’s changes now, her voice seems jaded, her character’s armour doesn’t seem to have been chosen carefully, a thing she used to do religiously in an effort to be prepared for any situation thrown her way. Sure, it’s a nice armour set, one chiselled to perfection by a hand skilled in the art of detailing. Etched within the plate of the chest piece tells a story of love and loss, a princess and a prince, and the demons at their gate. It’s a story that Natsuki loved reading about on the wikis, it was short, linear and heart-breaking but lovely at the same time. 

Sayori’s voice loses its warmth, the sun within her now obscured by that of a raincloud, or something forming into that of a raincloud, as this isn’t the first time Monika’s acted this way.

The conversation merely dies soon after and silence takes over, shadowed by the hum of the ship’s engine as it races through a sea of sand and nothingness.

“Hey, you realize that we should’ve been out of the map’s borders at this point?” Natsuki asks after a sufficient amount of time passes; a smile spreads over Monika’s face.

Then the rumbling began, a sound que that neither wanted to hear. The world shakes, and the ship shakes with it as the indentations of spikes arise from the sands, spewing out into the hot and unforgiving world of the outside.

“A- “Sayori doesn’t get the chance to finish her sen-

Its eyes beady and black, its chitin charcoal, its ‘mouth’ a cavernous hole with rows of teeth that seemingly stretched into the black below, and its spikes, black things with red at its tip, blotting out the red sun - this was no ordinary mob the three had fought together. 

“-Sandwyrm!” Monika finishes, jumping off the steering wheel and racing towards the cannon’s ammunition. 

It takes the two a much longer time to get into gear. 

The elf prepares her spells, and the witch attempts to find her spells.

Natsuki cycles through her spell lists, a bulky tome that glows with an unnatural energy, until she finds it- Abyssal touch, a support spell.  
Equipping it, her hand hums with an unfamiliar energy, a cycling cloud of black that snakes its way around her arm, consuming her as the time drones on. Understanding that she only had a total of five seconds to cast the spell before it combusted in her face, she chooses Monika; melding the power into the shape of a ball, Natsuki aims and fires.

The ball races through the air, exploding upon the iron hull of her armour, racing through her form, consuming each etch within the armour until all the remains is abyss.

A sticky and dripping abyss that can’t be dried off.

The abyss does its work, buffing each of the effects casted by the elf.

Sand flies into the dry desert sky as the Sandwyrm circles the boat, its spike being the only thing surfaces.

Oh, how they wished they had an actual archer. 

Casting Bound Bow, the dwarf races towards the crow’s nest, the net that allows her to climb up is wobbly and swings and sways throughout the air like a child with his plaything. 

Her leg finds itself tangled within the rope as the Sandwyrm charges directly towards the head of the ship, the glowing orb placed upon its head being the only opening they would have before the thing collides against the ship sending a hail storm of splinters and death.

Forcing her leg out and seething from the pain inflicted by rope burn, she races to the top, her eyes catch sight of the world around her.

Barren and lifeless, yet serene in its own way.

Mountains of sand jut out like folds on a blanket, stretching infinitely, meeting the sky that was soon resorting to a shade of purple, stars blooming into existence with each passing second. The air was now cold, a dry yet moist wail as winds began, sending bits of sand flying into the nothingness, their destination unknown.

Natsuki draws the glowing arrow. It churns with magic old and almost forgotten, the spectral form of the bow burns in the night; a flame that refuses to hurt, spread, consume.

She takes a deep breath, using the night to her advantage as she aims to arrow towards the glowing target upon the sandwyrm’s ‘forehead’ jutting out and casting bioluminescent light into the nothingness. 

Her held breath releases.

And the arrow with it.

It soars through the air, an ethereal beacon cutting through the winds. Sayori aims her staff its way, shouting an incantation and fortifying its flight. 

The orb, like a dying lightbulb, combusts.

Shards of orange light escape into the blackish-purple of the cosmos as the creature roars in pain, its form convulsing and rising to the heavens above, displaying its form for the world to witness in all its glory; a writhing tendril belonging to a forsaken god. The red moon grins.

The monstrosity sings.

It sings of a song of disparity, a sudden absence of hope that never returns, the strum of the guitar, the screech of the violin, and the melancholy of the piano- they all blend together in this monster’s voice, a cry for help.

It was then, and only then, that the three truly understood what The Place Where Flesh Sings truly was. 

It was not a location, it was a boss. A boss that the party was not equipped for fighting.

The song lingers upon the three as fear grips them.

The wyrm, its form suspended in the air, leans forward, preparing the deliver as hailstorm splinters and death. Monika is the first to grab her comrades, and soon they find themselves sprinting off the ship, worries of the fall damage resulting be dammed, it was a much bright alternative as opposed to losing all their items.

The monster drops, its form crashing against the ship, the ship breaks into a thousand different bits of wood, varying in size and complexity- but the death screen doesn’t flash upon their monitors. 

The impact of the sand takes a considerable chunk of health from their bars, but its not enough to kill them. 

“Start a livestream!” Monika shouts “I- okay, okay!” frantically scrolling though the menu tab, Sayori finds the camera icon; clicking on it takes her to two options- record or stream. She picks stream, naming the title: TPWFS FOUND BOSS FIGHT FIRST TIME!!!

And clicks the start tab.  
Born of flashing shards of light is a spectral eye, an eye that will follow its caster until the streamer grows bored and switches it off. 

“H-eh..hello everybody! This is S- “ 

“We don’t fucking have time for that, get your shit together!” Pangs of guilt sound within Natsuki’s core at the sight of the look of hurt plastered upon the elf’s face as the fighter gives her a look of disdain. “Ah…shit, oh fuck it!” Raising the wand clutched in her hand, the three prepare themselves for the battle ahead, the smallest pangs of hope shine like a dying star within, a hope that defies the laws of sanity itself as the boss’s health bar spreads upon the screen- prominently displaying itself. 

“The Place Where Flesh Sings.”

The monstrosity morphs, what one could only describe as instruments forming upon its hollow form as it screams a scream of utter agony; only succeeding in allowing the music to fly into the night sky. 

The fleshy violin perched upon the creature’s back, its many bows acting as arrows. The piano’s cover finds itself brimming with rows of jagged teeth, attached to its leg is a chain that allows it to dangle precariously, flinging it’s form in the air like a wrecking ball. The drums on the boss’s back-play booms of death, buffing the sandwyrm’s ability, only allowing its health bar to stretch further as active effects find themselves fortifying the being’s thick, charcoal chitin. The creature screams in the pain as the final instrument forms, and its voice becomes one of music- a guitar functions as a tongue, excreting the monster’s gore with each wet splatter upon the unforgiving sand. 

The viewers of the stream rise into the thousands, commenting on the beast’s disgusting nature, and wishing the party the best of luck in their suicide mission. 

The three, idiotic and brave, ready themselves for a long battle, one that all had doubt would result in a victory.

Monika readies her sword, a gleaming silver thing that sparks with electricity, coursing over its detailed form; and her shield, an ebony thing with ruby eyes. Praying to Helios, the God of war, she chugs one of the many potion bottles to be used, she’s ready.

Sayori grins, taking the second potion bottle, and prepares her staff- a mahogany body with a glowing gem suspended in the air by a modern form of magic. She shouts a spell, and tendrils of glowing white engulf the three.

Natsuki sighs, taking the third potion bottle, her book etched with eldritch truths and lies, a magic long forgotten and feared glows a green glow upon her wand.  
The three charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this!


	4. The Place Where Flesh Sings part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Party fights the internet rumor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, It's been a while since I've posted anything, and for that I'd just like to apologize for those still holding onto this story. Hope ya'll enjoy!

Friday  
March 19th   
4:00 A.M.

Joined by three other players, the party charges towards the boss for the hundredth time that night, the hope for defeating the monster now finds itself at an all-time low; but at the very least they were now prepared. The community has not dared fight this beast yet, in respect for the first to find the monstrosity; they refuse to attack it, only observe the battle. Some have joined their session, their character models stuck in a never-ending cheer as they watch from a distance; others, skilled and over-levelled, join in the fight- comradery or attention seeking, their purpose is unknown. 

Charging her sword’s main ability- The Sword of The Elders- the steel sword glows red. Heating to a molten orange, Monika races forth, sand rushing above the sky and floating into the cosmos above. Aiming its bows, the violin sends a barrage of death to the fighter’s way.

Clad in a cowl of nothingness, an abyss deep and empty, sprinkled with the afterthoughts of stars; the dark elf archer readies her arrows, her aim true and her red eyes sharp- she aims for the bioluminescent glow originating from the welts formed upon the monstrosity’s vile form. 

Tendrils sprouting from within the confines of a leather-bound journal, Natsuki charges, her eyes glowing a sunken green like that of sea weed; they glow like headlights. Her robe made of a leather pre-dating the rise of the Gods, her aim is shaky but shockingly precise, a perfect blend.

Grinning with unprecedented excitement at the number of viewers watching the stream, Sayori charges. Clad in armour sewn from the very fabric of light, taken from the very vault of Talos-- a decrepit old thing-- the robe glows ethereally, incomprehensibly, a beautiful white that shines like a sun. Her staff, carved of an elven oak radiating warmth to the touch, it’s a familiarity that one finds themselves comforted by; a wool knitted scarf intertwined with the most powerful of magic, memories. 

The Place Where Flesh Sings screams a song of disparity, a melancholy with no end in sight, and empty abyss devoid of hope; this song lowers the party’s charisma. Tendrils made of guitar string burrow within the sand like drills, sending beads of sand flying throughout the black cosmos, yellow freckles against a black backdrop. The tendrils swim through the ground, clearing a path of sand behind it as they grow closer.

“MC, left!” Monika had shouted as the tendrils erupt, sending yet another shower their way. The archer dodges to the left, using a flame spell as a propellant, it’s almost as if her feet lift from the sand for a single impossible moment, narrowly missing the acidic yellow bath. 

Spells soar through the air, one old and the other young, they dance amongst each other, swaying left and right- a yin and yang coloured a deep green and a vibrant blue, something akin to the mixing of paints. Aimed at key points within the monster’s bulky frame, they cause its skin to combust into flames, blistering and bubbling, something akin to a boiling cauldron; furthering its endless suffering as the guitar strings erupt, swaying in the distant cosmos. Because of this, the thick chitin deteriorates, small yet shockingly numerous cracks spreading upon a dry and deserted surface. 

The song warps into Abyss, the timbre slows and churns, a shifting hurricane off in a distance black. To attempt to explain the properties of this song would be an insanity in its own right

The drums

The piano 

The string 

All orchestrating a song that no longer reeks of melancholy, but of an Abyss, of pain and death and fear, and like that of the Abyss, deeper than the wretched halls of Tindalos themselves. This is no longer a song, a melody constructed of string and keys contorting into one and forming what one could describe as music; this ‘song’ cannot be described as music in its traditional sense, this is not music- this is feeling, one of pure unadulterated horror intertwined with the miniscule speckles of hatred- tendrils seeping into the bowels of one’s mind. A transcendence of normality, an Eldritch gospel. In the eyes of a necromancer, the song is beautiful, a perfect amalgamation of beauty; in the eyes of a Paladin, this is certainly not music. 

Things rise from the cold, dead sand. 

Their skin rotten, flaking and peeling into the resemblance of an onion.

Their eyes glow red, beacons of wretchedness through the veil of nothingness that creates this world. 

A mist arises, cold and unforgiving, it takes the shapes of creatures unimaginable, incomprehensible; one can go mad at the mere sight of its being. 

“Guys…We’ve fought these things before, right?” Clutching her book, her eyes dart left then right as volleys of sweat pool from the smooth surface of her face. 

“I- “Monika stares at the beasts before the party, they are leagues above in levels and the aura that permeates from their skin reeks of a long-forgotten power that even Natsuki cannot cast “, no…no we haven’t.” 

Placing her glowing hands upon the two members, Sayori mumbles a silent ward; as a result, their armours glow a little brighter, their spirits lifted, and their health regenerates one point at a time. “We’ll be okay, this time I’m sure we can do it,” Sayori says, her eyes sparking a determination that the party needs and relies upon; a crutch that this party needs. 

Peeling her eyes away from the cracked monitor of her gaming setup, Natsuki rubs her the blackened surface of her eyes. The peeled pink sticks to the walls like a curse, a constant reminder of failure and the inability to escape; shackles upon the arms of a prisoner and through the cracked openings of her window, Natsuki sees the sun rising. “Fuck.” Is all she can mumble. 

“Also, uhh Spectacle? This is our seventh time fighting this thing.” Sayori yells to herself or, in this case, to the chat. 

“This bullshit better be the last time…” Natsuki comments, her eyes stinging, the yawns becoming more frequent with each passing second, a countdown until the unfortunate and inevitable meltdown brewing beneath the concrete confines of a plant. “I can do this,” She mumbles to herself, an uphill battle an insurmountable foe, one older than the existence of mankind itself- sleep “We can do this, right?” 

Monika nods as sand soars into the air, a tsunami encroaching closer and closer, the creeping of shadows growing nigh. 

The MC prepares shock arrows, pulling back against the bowstring, she stands in tense patience. Monika stands next to her, sword pointed forward and ready for the energy Sayori will imbue upon the steel; allowing the weapon to essentially become a projectile; and Natsuki stands, her face obscured by a valley of tendrils which vomit disintegrates its victims, or in this case, victim-- it won’t do much here, but the spell is better than nothing, and her charges were wearing thin. 

And then, for a single victorious second, the party believes that they will survive this; that this being of destruction, of incomprehensible insanity is just that- a being, a being that breathes, a being that experiences joy and sadness, a being that has the possibility of dying. In this single victorious second, the party is ready. 

Then it rose, like a mushroom cloud, or an avalanche on a much grander scale. 

A wave of sand, a wave of death; a ship to embark on one its most perilous journeys. 

“Ward!” A blinding white light shines from within the oak of the staff and a protective bubble encloses around the three; leaving the MC to perish in the sand. 

“Aww heck! Sorry about that!” Sayori shouts as the ball writhes within the sand. 

MC: ur trash stop plying

“Wow, very sportsman-like this one.” Monika mumbles. 

Obscured by a plane of abyss with the briefest respites of a moonlit sky, the ball thrashes beneath the waves as fear overtakes the three. The Place where Flesh Sings finds itself at 60% health and though this may not be the farthest they’ve reached, this is still significant progress. 

Cracks form upon the bubble; stretching forth like cobwebs. The cracks deepen and the three know that’s its only a matter of time before it bursts. 

“Hold onto me.” Natsuki mumbles as she charges the last remnants of her, well, charge; a green glow erupting from both hands and legs. “uh…You sure this is going to actually work?” Monika asks, wearily placing her hand upon Natsuki’s shoulders. “I’m sure this’ll work!” Sayori exclaims, wrapping her arms around Natsuki’s waist. “Just-just trust me on this one,” Natsuki takes a deep breath “Cause I sure as hell don’t.” 

The bubble pops, 

Shattering into 

Thousands of tiny 

Pieces.   
.  
..  
.  
.  
..  
.  
.  
BOOM 

A valley of green fire combusts from her hands, propelling them to the sky as the three as well as the spectators cheer. There is no respawn screen, no zero health, the party is alive. 

High in the sky and subjected to its screeching, the three stares down at the colossal beast beneath them; the piano upon its back glowing a distinct orange, a beacon in an abyss. “Guy, just letting you know that I don’t know how long this thing is gonna last!” The green flame flickers for but a single second and the speed at which they propelled themselves out of danger slowly finds itself slowing. “What do we do Moni?!” Sayori shouts against the barrelling screeching of the wind. 

 

“Uhh, when we run out of fue-“ 

The fire stops. 

And 

Their 

Luck   
Runs 

Dry. 

“AIM FOR ITS BACK!” 

“I’M SORRY WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?”

“WHAT?!”

“YOU HEARD ME!” 

The beast rises from its sheets beneath the sand; its spikes rising high above the cosmos themselves, its mouth convulsing to sing another chorus of catastrophic consequences, of impossible insanity, or reverent fear and malevolent maliciousness. 

And as the three falls from impossible heights 

Sayori casts a ‘stone flesh’, buffing the stats upon their form. 

From the innards of its mouth, an orange glow arises. 

“GO GO GO!” 

The creatures back grow closer and closer

The glow grows brighter and brighter

A beam erupts from within, a searing hot stream of fire that consumes all in its path, or in this case, it consumes Monika. 

“OH SHIT!” Natsuki shouts as the force of the beam jettisons her direction off course and onto the orange sand. 

The fall kills her, breaks her form into nothingness and leaving a broken mass of death staining the orange blood red. 

“NATSUKI, MON-“Sayori crashes onto the thick chitin of its back, badly damaged but still clinging to the last vestiges of life. 

The viewers have risen to the hundred-thousands. 

The commenters tell her a myriad of phrases; from the very popular “Well, isn’t that a Rodrash”, a reference to the Wrath of Rodrash Expansion that had come out last year; to the usual “ur ded lmao”. The comments have twin roles: motivation and demotivation, yin and yang; two forces battling against one another. 

The beast thrashes about, confused at the lack of the Game Over screen and causing Sayori to lose balance, tumbling down the monster’s back. 

As a last act of self-preservation, Sayori reaches her arm out, praying to the very Void itself that her hands will find their place nestled upon the cracked surface of the spikes upon its back. 

And, as though the incomprehensible Void itself answered her inconsequential prayers, her hand finds its place nestled upon the cracked surface of a spike upon its back. 

The beast flails, thrashing its from about like a pissed off bull as Sayori climbs the cracks upon the creature’s back. 

“GET TO THE PIANO” The commenters spam in unison, their triple chins flapping, their grease intertwined within their hair. 

“IM TRYING!” Sayori screeches into the mic, essentially eating it. “Ah! Heck, heck, heck!!!” Sayori hyperventilates as her grip loosens. 

Only for a second.

Bows sprout upon its back, stretching back and firing, they combust into flame, ready to consume in a storm of flame. Sayori winces as they just narrowly miss their mark and with a quick stream of light pooled from the last vestiges, catapults herself closer to the piano. 

The wyrm rises high above the ground, and the sky soon becomes its new waves. To put that oddly phrased sentence into more simpler terms, the wyrm is flying. 

And for a moment, just a moment, Sayori loses her grip. 

And within that moment she is falling. 

“I SWEAR TO GOD IF THIS DOESN’T WORK- “When a character dies, the ability to transfer their power is presented; therefore, it lowers the individual’s level tenfold. It can only be spared for dire times, and this time has certainly found itself dire. 

From the mangled remains of Natsuki’s corpse a beam of light erupts; the light, its hue that of a bright pink, dances in the ballroom of cosmos- its form one of a dancer, lean and nimble, as though able to dance upon the glistening remnants of glass and emerge unscathed. It’s beautiful. 

The power enters Sayori and, if she were to be roleplaying, you know, like a loser, she would’ve described the power surging within her veins as reinvigorating; a necessary sip of Gatorade to drive an empty husk forth. 

It is just what Sayori needs. 

Her charges rise, full and ready to be casted. 

“Slow time!” The words surge with energy that Sayori’s character has long since forgotten since the beginning of this arduous and draining battle that’s lasted for hours. 

The-----------------world-----------slows-------enshrouded---------in------a------blue------hue.  
“-----Magic---------Missile-------!!!!” 

The----world---reverts-to its original state. 

An ethereal missile hailing from a distant realm erupts form the old wood, zooming throughout the air; its target set upon the vile and decrepit piano emerging from its flesh. 

The missile is consumed by the piano. 

And before Sayori’s face of dejection can form, the Piano cracks. 

Slowly at first, then another, and then another.

White light seeps from within those cracks and soon the Piano is unable to control the amount of power within its rotten wood. 

The Piano E X P L O D E S. 

The force only pushing Sayori further from the beast as cracks form upon its chitin- a chitin once thought to be incapable of breaking. 

 

There is a blinding light as the beast combusts. 

It is dead. 

Even though some may consider this death cheap, a quick attention grab to alleviate the hype for the oncoming expansion pack- yet to be named- it would be considered a great offense to claim that the party here had not experienced necessary hardships to ensure that this beast would be slain properly. 

“The Place where Flesh Sings” Finds its place comfortably as the 389th boss to be slain. 

And as Sayori finds the sand growing closer and closer, she can’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any feedback, I'd love to hear it!


	5. Book Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, fuck, fuck.
> 
> Natsuki rushes to get to her date on time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you enjoy this one, I know it's not as fun as the fantasy bits.

iMarch 9th  
8:30 A.M.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

If this were a first person story in which we could all understand the feelings flowing through the bowls of Natsuki’s head, we would’ve been subject to fear, pure and unadulterated fear, coupled with an anxiety unlike her. With two minutes of sleep on her belt, her eyes blood shot and stinging under the haze of light, Natsuki rushed out, prepared to face the largest boss she’s faced yet- Awkward Book Dates. 

And as she opens the door, hope sprinkled upon the battered surface of a tired face. 

She hears it. 

Thump 

Thump

Her hand retracts, pulled back by its sibling. 

In this moment, she awaits with a stunned silence, her breaths stifled, like the gunshots from an ageing barrel. The thumps have stopped, but they’ve yet to pass, and are instead waiting, as though able to sense the escape; the will to thwart it risen. 

‘Go back to bed.’  
‘C’mon! Fucking move!’

The thumps continue. 

The knob turns. 

Natsuki has not moved an inch. 

The figure at the door is imposing, larger than the Dragons of Uldar, taller than the Decrepit Beast himself- and ten times more terrifying. His eyes glow in the sunken black of the hallway, his nose exhales plague, his status effect is one of terror. 

As the beast looks down upon the warlock, his eyes piercing through the void, Natsuki feels the health pool above her rise from the ground- as it usually does when engaging in battle.

So, soloing a boss, a boss thousands of levels above her. 

 

“So, kiddo, we’re ya goin’?” a question she knows it not one of casual conversation, it’s test, to see how she’ll respond. Quickened breaths, wide eyes, shaken words; signs, one’s she needs to avoid to conclude the boss fight. “I-I-“ Fuck. Goddamn it! Shit! Natsuki casts ‘Persuade’ “Just…I’m going to the library.” A half-truth with a twenty-percent success rate. 

‘Don’t sweat.’  
‘Don’t shake.’  
‘Relax.’

She feels it, and she curses herself for the sensation, the beads of precipitation risen upon her forehead. His eyes squint and the window of escape shrinks. 

“So, anyone else gonna be there?” To describe the beast’s voice would be to describe the revving of an engine, the screaming of a fire, nails against blackboards. “N-,” Stop fucking stuttering “No, not at all.” 

A hand 

Reachesfromtheabysswrappingitsappendagesaroundherneck

Pulling   
Her   
Closer. 

Natsuki loses -2 health points, as the minutes pass she will continue losing -2 health points. 

“You shittin’ me?” 

His breath 

Reeks of death. 

An additional

-3 points are lost.

Leaving 

Her health pool at a   
Total of 

95 

“N…No…” Natsuki casts ‘Tears of the Fallen’, its pleases the beast. 

A smile,  
emitting one of pure malice,   
enshrouds upon its face. 

The 

Hand 

Is retracted, air flowing through the once empty hull of her lungs. Coughs rise within her throat as her health pool is lowered to 89. 

Wounded, she survives the encounter. 

“Be back by six”  
“T-Thank you,”  
“’Thank you’ what?”  
“Thank you, sir.” 

The wall converge above her, their breaths hot, stinging to the touch as Natsuki feels her form shrink its size. 

The disgusting, torn remnants of a once hopeful pink wallpaper laughs.   
.  
..  
..  
..  
..  
..  
..

March 9th  
9:40 A.M. 

The door opens, the bell ringing in the process, earning a few stares of annoyance as she enters the book store. 

The book store is small, a quaint rest stop akin to that of The Whispey Willow Tavern, bathed in a warm orange tint with the smell of books permeating within the air with the respites of hanging dust. To her right hand side rests a raised platform with seats and shelves filled to the brim with tomes reeking of eldritch lies and truths (biographies) with a small corner reserved for the brewing of tea and coffee. To her left hand side rests a small gift corner with pens that holds the power to leave a stationary not fulfilled, but not completely starved. A couple books from the ‘Decomposition’ series rests upon a shelf next to the pens. Finally, there is a cashier, a teenager with sunken eyes that tell the story of many sleepless nights.   
Resting in front of her lies a maze of walls, the books upon it a multitude of swirling colors: red, blue, green, orange… to list them all would be no easy feat. 

Her eyes scan 

Left right 

Ahead 

Her hope falters, for the briefest of moments until: 

“Excuse me, Natsuki?” And a finger that delves her into the deepest pits of butterflies and blooming roses and a multitude of swirling metaphors contorting into one giant feeling lightly taps her shoulder. Her face heats hotter than the strongest ‘Flame’ spell can cast. 

Turning around, gazing upon those purple eyes, the white porcelain of skin tinged red with blush, the long hair that hovers scandalously above her waist, the smile that shines through the darkest of abyss. 

“Gross, this is gross,” the rational side of her mind shouts, “afhadiufhwieh!!!” the more primal side of her foams. 

“I am glad that you came.” Her voice, timid as it is, whispers a fierce strength that, if caught off guard, could render Natsuki useless. And she is caught off guard, and she finds herself useless, falling face first into a pit of swirling butterflies. 

“I…uhh…uhhh…” Her mouth slacks, and Natsuki internally screams. 

Yuri wears another turtleneck, this time it’s a warm red, inviting and yet so bold in its presentation. Wearing long skinny jeans, her hips hint at something more, what that ‘more’ is, Natsuki would not be able to say without dying inside. Her face brightens to red as she attempts to hide within the mound of violets. 

“O-oh! Is it something with my appearance?! Does it annoy you in some way??”   
“N-no! y-you look nice!”  
‘Grooooooooooooossssssss!”  
‘hfuiheiEDHIREHfiuhefuiaurfh

 

Yuri smiles for the faintest of moments, her eyelids drooping, after years of zero game, this is the most attractive thing Natsuki has ever seen. 

“Well, I was wondering if you’d allow yourself to read books and drink tea with me tagging along.” Her voice permeates a strength that overpowers any will to scream and leave rising within her. 

“Yeah, I mean, I guess, it was what I was gonna do in the first place so I guess you could tag along.” A classic defence system, residing within a castle of thorns, Natsuki attempts to alleviate the weight of the situation through false anger. “Very well, if you’ll allow me, I will retrieve a book I’ve been reading.” Yuri smiles causing the thorns to catch fire, “All right, well I’ll go get a manga then.” Yuri flashes a look that almost angers our protagonist, but instead shakes it off before the situation has the ability to elevate into death incarnate. 

Making her way towards the Manga section, the look resides within her mind, a stain that never seems to let out. Anger boils within, but Natsuki attempts to look past it. “C’mon, this is a good day, not right now.” Today was a good day indeed, the manga section was surprisingly empty “Hmph, guess the weebs are hiding.” A smirk rising amongst her lips as Natsuki forgets the basic fact that she too is part of the weeb culture. 

‘What’ll it been today?’  
‘We could finish JoJo…’  
‘Everyone fucking reads JoJo.’  
‘What do you want from me?!’

This quarrel continues until Natsuki finally makes up her mind, picking another volume of ‘Parfait girls’. Her fingers tremble as they touch the spine. 

‘He’ll kill you.’

\------- ------------------- -- - -- -- - - -- - - -- - - -- - -- -‘Don’t do it.’---------------------------------

\------- -------- -------- ----‘He drives past this store, you know that, right?’ ---------------- ----- ---- ---- --- --

\----- ------ --- --- -- -- - -- -- -- - -- - -- -- - -- - - -- - - - -- - - - -- - ---------------------------------

 

‘There’s a road right there’  
‘Right above us.’

Natsuki grabs the book, 

Boom------boom----boom---boom

“Hey, we’re all…r-right.” Her breathing stills before making her way back to the seat. 

March 9th   
10:37 A.M. 

“I’m glad you’ve found the book you were looking for, if I may ask h-how has your morning been?” The raised platform has a total of six tables lining amongst each side of the wall with a total of two chairs facing one another. Three people occupy three of these desks: the obligatory writer with typing away upon his MacBook Pro, his eyes an empty husk, an attribute often attributed to writers. An artist (probably a modern artist by the looks of it, with their dark- neutered clothing, an attempt at making a statement of the precarious line genders share.) their finger wrapped around a pen as they finish their line art; what lays behind the cover of the tan sketchbook is a question that Natsuki can do without knowing. Finally, a regular book fanatic occupies the furthest table, towers of paper surround her, a castle of eldritch knowledge which leaves Yuri reeling with pleasure. 

Back to the question at hand though, a simple “how has your morning been?” finds itself a question with many pit falls. Natsuki knows this question better than the back of the beast’s hand, she knows the ins and outs, the right and wrong things to say, which answer leaves them smiling or mortified. 

At the very least she knows she can’t say, “Yeah, my dad choked the ever-living-heck outta me at the idea of you being there, what about you?”   
So, she counters back with another question “I dunno, howsss…your day been?” 

‘Jesus Christ.’  
-1 to Natsuki’s charisma. 

Yuri chuckles before the anxiety can reach her brain “Well, my day’s been fulfilling, I awoke the beautiful sounds of birds, I allowed myself the time to bask in the morning glory with a cup of tea,” Her eyes closed, she hums for the smallest of moments before stopping short, “I- I apologize! You probably didn’t want to hear that much about.”

‘Oh, oh you’re fucked dude.’ 

“N-no! I’m really glad! To hear that you-uh-had a good morning!” A smile forves itself upon her face. 

“I’m glad.” Yuri smiles.

The two set their books down in front of the other, Natsuki’s manga (which is still literature) is pink, a group of what one would presume to be high school children with very revealing skirts. Due to legal reasons regarding western law (it was drawn by a western creator), a disclaimer is placed upon the cover comforting the reader with the wonderful phrase “All characters depicted are over the age of 18”.

These characters have been lewded to hell due to this disclaimer, seriously, go check r34, that shit’s extensive. 

Yuri’s book finds itself leagues above in terms of complexity, bound in the leather the book resembles a tome. The cover is dust filled, scratched at by its sides as though an eldritch monstrosity awaits beyond the false safety promised by the leather of the cover (That safety promised is fleeting to say the least). With an eye painted over, it looks exactly like ‘The Book of Lies’, a novice-level casting book that all warlocks are given at the start of the main campaign. “Black Plague…” Natsuki mumbles, “I’m sorry?” Yuri prompts, a look of minor confusion upon her face, “N-nothing!”. 

“Oh, I see, well if I may ask, what is your…er…literature,” she visibly cringes “about?” Taken as a sign of war, Natsuki’s agro meter rises “What’s that supposed to mean?” It slipped, there’s no stopping once the boiling reaches its peak. “Er- nothing! No-othing, I didn’t mean to be offensive at all!” Visibly sweating, her eyes grow wide as an attempt is made to cast ‘Calm’ to no avail. “Listen’ if you think manga is trash, you can just stuff i-“ She caught herself before it reaches an unstoppable feat, Yuri hides her face within the cover of hair that never seems to stop. 

Her mouth closes.   
Her eyes wide.   
Covered underneath a glare.   
The anger, the boiling hot anger that sears into the bowels of her system, a natural urge to fight against an oncoming barrage of feeling.   
The anger cools, at her sight, hidden beneath the purple locks, she looks so…scared. 

Natsuki hates it, hates it more than anything. 

“I-I, shit, I’m sorry.”   
“N-no worries, I st-stepped out of line.” 

Though this sentence worries her, Natsuki chooses to not focus on that, but instead focus on the cover of her manga, a pink cover with a group of high school girls. 

“What’s your book about?” Natsuki prompts. 

Yuri smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, critiques? Be sure to put em' down, I love reading them ^^


	6. Somebody Once Told Me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsuki and Monika take a stroll through the jungles of Ese-gar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I bring you the next chapter of this thing 3 in the morning, I hope you enjoy!

March 9th   
3:33

A bandit rests seated upon a wooden crate, wrapped in the furs of many animals to combat the surprising cold of the jungle and brandishing the handy work of a dwarf forgemaster upon his hilt- a beautiful steel sword- his eyes drooping with boredom. Today has been a long day, one filled with pre-planned movements which entail the riveting tale of standing in one corner and then standing in another corner, and so-on and so-forth. 

In, say, six to five minutes, the celestial glow of an ethereal arrow will puncture his cranium, killing him. 

The jungles of Ese-gar spread endlessly, a maze of red, tangled vines and orange Elder Trees jutting out into the oblivion of a purple sky. Nestled within the many trees, their height akin to the many sky-scrapers of our world, lies a bandit camp. Supported by thick branches, platforms are erected with tents littering the sides, as though placed hastily with no real care for order. Jewels lay scattered upon the rotting wooden planks, gleaming silver baubles enticing any low-levelled adventurer to scale the trunks of the tree to gain the loot.

The bandits of Ese-gar (fantasy names, amiright?) rely on this. 

The low-levels are often reduced to nothing more than scrubs. In the early days of her initiation to the world, Natsuki had spent the better part of a night attempting to scale the aging trunk, dying time and time again, her agitated state growing with each passing hour as “That fucking bitch-face” split her head into two with a great-sword for the fifteenth time that night. 

On the twentieth try, she finally did it. With a combination of weak fire spells with lantern oil- and with the tiniest sprinkles of luck (though she’d never care to admit it); she stealthed through the entire camp- slitting their throats and lighting those who got too close on fire. There were many moments within that run where she had thought that death was imminent and that she would have to start again (after a flurry of curses of course). But she did it, and finally, standing upon the spoils of her victory, her eyes as wide as the two suns that orbit this world; she’d never felt more proud of herself within that moment. 

Now, you may ask, why are we focusing a bandit who, in two minutes, will be meeting his death?

Well it’s quite obvious who’s drawing the arrow, isn’t it? 

“And then what?” The stoic paladin asks within the covers of leaves, wearing a battle skirt (she swears its only for the stats), Monika’s player character’s outfit closely resembles a ballerina, though with the added weight of iron clasped upon her shoulders as pauldrons, as well as the colossal sword- its blade carved with the dreadful ice of Hel, a blood-shot eye litters itself upon the hilt’s centre- with a complimentary shield- a gorgon carved upon its obsidian surface- this outfit is certainly not for the nimble. 

“Then we just talked. That’s it.” The knowledge-able warlock replies, the ethereal fire of bow whipping at the black fabric of her clothes and casting a blue glow that bathes the green surrounding the two. Natsuki’s robes are simple, tinged with abyss and abyss blacker than the endless infinite of the cosmos themselves, they grant their wearer invisibility at will. Upon her back rests the bejewelled surface of the outer-casings of a scroll. What lies within that scroll is not entirely known, the effects have been known to change at random. 

“I see, well now I need to ask this, was she a 10?”   
“I-ugh- fuck off!”

Monika sighs “So, wanna tell me why we’re farming bandits in the easiest part of the map?” Natsuki scowls as she adds the finishing touches to her aim “It is not the easiest part of the map! Those are the mines!” The paladin rests her hand upon the hilt, “Okay, fair enough, but is there a reason?” the warlock can’t seem to let that arrow fly, “Well, I wanna get back those levels I lost!”

Speak of the devil 

Her fingers lift,

The ghostly blue of the arrow flies through the bushes, it’s aim calculated as it prepares to hit its mark. A blue beacon upon a purple backdrop. 

The bandit grunts, then promptly dies as the arrow pierces his skull before disappearing with the roaring winds. 

There is a tone to Monika’s voice when she knows something is a half-truth that irks Natsuki, “C’mon Nat, you’re not that boring, you always force me to raid this camp with you when you want advice.” and so in order to escape the annoyance of that tone, the thorns planted upon her back lessen, retracting within the skin and allowing the briefest respites of concealed truths. 

The bandits, now aware of the fact that their friend now lies in a pool of his own blood, move to investigate as they begin to shout a flurry of obscenities. The archers, sly and crafty and capable of ending the lives of low-levels with a single well placed arrow, prepare their arrows as they move to cover, the spellcasters, bound in cloth long rotten depicting birds of prey, pray for the safety of their comrades. The fighters, their spirits ones of fire and comradery, raise their shields, ready for the bloody battle to come, ready for their ensuing deaths. 

“Fine! I- need…yer…uhmm, gah!” Natsuki groans as the two charge forth, boots slapping against the wet, dark red, mud .   
“You need…what?” That damn smile, Natsuki’s scowl deepens. 

“…He..ee.ee.”  
“I don’t speak handicapped.”  
“Help! Christ!” 

The two charge as Natsuki casts ‘levitate’. 

Rising high above the ground, high above the elder trees, closer to the purple backdrop with the briefest hints of cosmos at the oncoming night.

The two of them stare at the swaying orange beneath them, the wind carrying the leaves as they reach destinations unknown and unthinkable.

It’s beautiful, like a painting that an artist looks fondly upon, one that holds personality, memories concealed within each stroke of orange and purple paint. 

“You know, I can’t help but realize that most of our ‘plans’ usually involve flying.” The party has never really given this much consideration, as their plans for attack almost always amount to “just hit it until it dies!” followed by an equally dead meme, “Leeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrooooooooooyyyyyy Jenkinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnsssssssss.” 

Monika grabs a hold of Natsuki’s waist before lifting her upon her shoulder.

“Oh, this is priceless!”   
“Ey fuck you buddy!”

Monika chucks the warlock, aiming for the camp. 

Speeding through the air at speeds capable of surpassing a low-levelled Draconic Beast, the dwarf best resembles a missile than an actual humanoid creature. 

Fire swirls amongst the staff, flames intertwining, caught in an endless fight; sparks singing in the open air, splashing upon Nat’s face as a ball of fire rests atop the Elder Wood of her staff. 

Falling 

Lower

And 

Lower. 

The bandits never bothered to look up as flames consume their forms. 

-68 H.P.

Leaving her with six out of the original seven spell-slots left. 

To say that their targets were dead would be a massive understatement. Now, before you go calling Natsuki O.P. you, the reader, must understand that these NPCS were pathetically low-levelled, their numbers single digits.

As the platform lays in dancing flame, Natsuki stands proud, her hands at her sides as she taps the staff upon her witch’s hat. “Ha! Gotem.”

As though gently let down by the wind themselves, Monika floats to platform. In higher levels, or at the very least a level above 13, the ‘Levitate’ spell has the ability to safely grant it’s caster/casted passage through the cities of wind, to become but a leaf in its descent to the cold and hard ground. 

The remnants of the bandits, well there are none; ash hangs in the wind; its destination unknown as the black speckles soon intermix with the rest of the world-space; their pixels lost to the crowded vegetation that litters this land.

The ash travels vast lands, over the remnants of a once thriving civilization, a city that thrived upon the trunks of the large oak. Perhaps they had once relied upon the safety of the many branches extruding from Wooden Gods, perhaps ecosystems resided within this giant tree; ecosystems that could be exploited, hunted to nothingness, animals retreating to the farthest reaches as a result of this ambition, an ambition fuelled by fear and the need for survival. 

Their eyes, blinking in fear as they stare at encroaching flames of humanity. 

This tree is gone, reduced 

now reduced to nothing more than memories- debris that holds the possibility of a dungeon raid. 

“So, wanna tell me what you needed help with?” Monika asks as she pockets a silver necklace. 

“Yeah.” Within the black confines of a room with the peeling pink of laughing wallpaper, beads of precipitation form upon the pimpled surface of her forehead. 

The shadows grow.

The wall grins. 

“uhh, yeah…I want to ask…” 

There are thumps upon the ceiling. 

Within the fear of night, Natsuki is aware that she is not alone. 

Are those eyes upon the walls?

“Yeah, what’s up?” Monika asks.

“I wanted to ask how you and Sayori got together…” 

‘Pff, Jesus Christ that was terrible.’

“Hey! I went to a deep place to get that!”

Monika stops, her character mid-way through looting, her voice changes into one of distant thought, taken to a time of distant fog, almost forgotten yet still there hidden within a veil. Natsuki can almost hear the smile in that voice, a smile which in turn makes her smile. 

“You know, I can’t really tell you,” She starts, her voice one of uncertainty, like a joke you’ve remembered, but can’t tell right and as a result the joke deflates, “We were always together in some way. From kinder-garden to high school. I mean, we weren’t together officially until I’d say about Freshman year.”

“But, what really kept us together was vidya.” 

“A long, long Time ago…”

Sayori stares at a mirror, there is nothing particularly interesting about this mirror, it simply exists. Neither exciting or interesting. It stands upon a cracked backdrop of a wall, this wall wet from existing within an A.C. for far too long. 

For some inexplicable reason, she feels this way, the way her stomach knots as though unable to comprehend the eldritch flowers blooming within; the way she sweats as she stares at this mirror, strands of precipitation forming upon her tired face, shooting down her face like bullets. 

Her fingers shake as they grip upon the fabric of her shirt, fingers that cling for a certain type of stability too rare to drop, each wrinkle and crease a testament to this ideology; fear unyielding and yet Sayori feels something deep inside, hidden deep within and nestled beneath thorny bushes that always make her feel like she want to throw-up. 

Excitement.   
“When she confessed to me, I was almost surprised.” Natsuki raises an eye-brow “Okay! Don’t get me wrong, what I mean is that I knew what she felt- hell, I felt it too- but I didn’t think to act on it” 

Sayori stares at a mirror, there’s nothing particularly interesting about this mirror. 

The walls, four to be exact, painted the same shade of beige, 

Converge. 

Why can’t you do it?

It’s so easy, just do it.

Oh wait, wait, wait, wait, you know, don’t you…

Oh, you poor thing, you know she doesn’t feel the same right? 

Stupid, really fucking stupid.

The walls whisper as they rise 

And fall.

And soon Sayori simply stares at a mirror that has no interesting quality. 

“Why can’t you do it?” 

Ding!

Monikin: Yo! What was that thing that you wanted me to know during lunch? Can’t stop thinking about it ha ha

From within an abyss of her own fears, a phone materializes. 

It is a flip-phone, the edges are cracked, coupled with its red paint job, the phone is given an almost organic feeling to its girth. 

Sayorikin :>: o  
Sayorikin: ye

Her fingers hover of the keyboard as her blue eyes stare into an abysses worse than the ones we currently find ourselves enshrouded within.   
Sayorikin: Well i liek u n wntd to kno if you likd me.” 

Monika laughs, her eyes creasing with nostalgia “It was so poorly spelt,” and she stares off into clouds more beautiful than the one’s we find ourselves under “but it meant the world to me.” 

“As I’ve said already, we only stayed together because of our love of vidya, it’s what brought us together and what’s been keeping us together. I mean, she’s a fucking redditor! I’ll never get those hours back that I spent on COD, but I think I’m okay with that.” 

The two continue their way through the many winding vines as this level ends and another begins. 

“Hey, I know you said vidya was the only thing that’s kept you together, but do you still love her?”

“Yeah, I…I like to think I still do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've got any comments, criticisms, or just want to tell me to stop breathing, do so in the comments please ^^ I really enjoy getting feedback on this thing!


	7. Blackout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsuki is faced with incomprehensible monstrosities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this one!

**March 11 th  **

**Sunday**

**2:30 A.M.**

**“Blackout”**

**The room is dark, an unescapable and unspeakable abyss that consumes all in its path with a rigor unprecedented in its wake.  The air is cold and damp and there is also no escape from its icy grip.**

**There is of course still** light, **clinging to its last vestiges of life, that light in question is moonlight; its glow faint and obscure, hidden beneath a blanket of snarling clouds and shining starlight and only slightly obscured by whatever unseen eldritch monstrosity hangs within our star-system.**

**Today is a blackout, and for the denizens of the night- or early morning- cowering in the cover of a monitor glow, their eyes wide and red, bags forming dark circles around their eyes as their fingers- spindly and elongated- click upon a keyboard that’s half-broken, it is an apocalyptic event.**

**The air, though cold and damp, is stiff.**

**Natsuki lies upon the mess of her bed, staring up at the abyss that stares down.**

**Her eyes are wide and red with bags forming dark circles around her eyes.**

**Natsuki is tired, her body aches in places that it shouldn’t, a constant thrumming that continues and worsens until it’s all that she is able to think of, to understand. The abyss around her nips at the edges of her over-sized shirt which functions as sleep ware.  It’s cold, though Natsuki does not feel the need to wrap herself under the cover of blanket.**

**The stench of the room is almost unbearable, the reek of unwashed clothes lies within one of the corners of the peeling pink wallpaper, a convergence of stained colours that in turn stain the wallpaper a dark, damp yellow with perspiration. The blankets she lays atop of are equally unwashed, stains adorning it’s light-pink form, their sources unknown and frankly, Natsuki would prefer if it were kept that way.**

**The only item that is kept in clean is the computer, a small monitor and CPU which pulls a steady 40 frames per-second. It’s a piece of shit, but it’s one of the few pieces of shit that hold any value to Natsuki.**

**‘I need to wash.’**

**Natsuki thinks to no one in particular, her eyelids half drooping.**

**She is still, her body unmoving except for the moving of her stomach as her lungs are filled and deflated in a cycle of breaths.**

**In this moment, suspended within an inescapable abyss of fears and confusions dancing to a song of strings orchestrated by a dread as old as the Draugr themselves; Natsuki prays for the lights to turn on.**

**-1 intellect**

**Her fingers ache, a dull throbbing drum that beats with each passing second as the wall swirls beneath the cover of black.**

**Her phone rests somewhere in this dungeon, a beacon of light in a world without.**

**Her eyes, open and alert, her ears listening, her mind a cacophony of strained silence, tensing as each second passes in slow but steady succession; sentences that never seem to end.**

**There are thumps upon the surface of her ceiling, quiet at first, distant thrumming that grows in volume.**

**Thump**

**Drip**

**Thump**

**‘It’s here.’**

**‘I know.’**

**Natsuki awaits, staring at the ceiling above her, the empty and lonely abyss that surrounds her form as whatever creature above her continues its demonic and eldritch thumps that leaves her gasping for breath. The cracks upon it’s white ceilings pronounced and ugly, replicating the cracks upon a ward,**

**Her ward.**

**There is fear within these walls.**

**Natsuki casts calm, though it has no noticeable effect.**

**There are thumps above her, the creaking of springs with each thrust.**

**The strangled and quieted yelps that grow in volume, in intensity with each passing second.**

**Thump**

**Thump**

**Thump**

**The abyss grows in strength as even moonlight fades, leaving only its cold grasp.**

**The thumps rise in volume, in speed as each thrust grows closer to its climax and the choked yelps turn choked moans.**

**Natsuki grabs her phone.**

**The door stands above her, it’s woods imposing, a black ward that even the strongest of warlocks would find themselves incapable of breaking. So Natsuki focuses on the window.**

**Her hands, shaking with fear, grab the cracked and broken remnants of what once constituted as a window.**

**Natsuki tries calm again, the abyss overpowers her, leaving her with 3 spell-slots left.**

**Though they won’t be of much use here.**

**The city reeks in the cold wind, a different kind of cold that only offers pain, entering one’s bones and leaving ache in its icy wake.**

**Her apartment rests upon the first floor, as a result, it is easier to scale, though since a staircase separates the first floor from the ground floor, it still takes considerable effort to not break one’s legs. Natsuki does not want to break her legs.**

**“Light’s still not on yet.” Natsuki mumbles to no one in particular, shivering with the rolling winds that fracture the remnants of comfort with the simplest of swipes.**

**Within the alleyway, Natsuki finds a comfortable spot that has yet to be affected by the stench of trash being carried by cold breeze.**

**With a click of the phone button, Natsuki is greeted by cold** light of her phone.

 

Her contact list is sparse, actually there only seems to be one number within the white light

 

The beast

 

So Natsuki switches to her notepad app, hidden amongst a multitude of to-do lists that were created for the soul purpose of housing the holy artefact itself,- a noble cause indeed- is the number, Yuri’s phone number, given to her at the end of their last book-date.    
  


N: you there?

 

Natsuki awaits, her face obscured and blinded by the light as seconds transform into minutes.

 

Natsuki casts calm, it succeeds for a moment, and in that moment she is safe and secure and the creaking above her ceiling is simply just that, creaking above her ceiling; then it simply sputters and dies, such as all flames do within the roaring tides of wind, the screeching of banshees within the abyss.

 

Y: Yes, I am here. How are you?

 

Natsuki smiles.

 

N: Im good what about you?

 

Y: I’m quite fine myself, I’ve been focusing on my writing.

 

N: Oh huh could I get a sneak-peak owo

 

Y: I… possibly…

 

N: how come possibly? Think i might not like it? >:0

 

Y: No not at all! Though it may not be of your certain tastes.

 

Natsuki scoffs, her face reddening within the cold wind “Okay then.”

 

N: What’s that supposed to mean?

Y: Nothing! I mean nothing by that, I simply am stating that we have very different tastes!

 

Natsuki decides to let it go, the exhaustion from the passing streams of time wrapping it’s slender fingers upon her shoulders, beckoning her forth into a world of abyss and floating clouds. Each pixel rendered with extreme precision, the strokes of the brush, subtle at first; then gaining in traction as each purple and white intermix with one another and creating a masterpiece.

 

Natsuki does not enjoy the spindly fingers wrapping themselves upon her shoulder.

 

N: then let me come over

 

…

 

Natsuki waits.

 

Y: Is this a serious inquiry?

 

N: well yeah I wanna read some of your stuff but ya won’t let me

 

Y: Okay… allow me to send you my coordinates/

 

N: I don’t have data

 

Y: Oh.

 

Y: I see, well where are you?

 

Natsuki looks up before **switching off her phone and placing it into her pocket, and besides the horrors of not having data plaguing the innermost depths of the corridors of her mind, she thinks to herself as to how in the fuck she is going to be able to see where she’s going in the dark, another qualm among these lists of qualms would be “How the fuck am I gonna find the address that I’m on?”**

**Now, one may ask themselves, stroking the scratchy surface of their many chins, their eyes creasing in excitement as grease falls in careful and calculated strips down the acne-stained surface of her faces.**

**And, dear reader, the answer to this convoluted question is simple; one rooted within the deepest fears of the human condition, a continuous cacophony of screaming noise at a decision so stupid, so incomprehensibly dumb that even the mere thought of it would leave a wizard reeling upon the floor in anger. Natsuki had forgotten to bring her charger, and frankly, due to the properties of her apartment and risking the arising of the Beast now that he has finished his objective for the night, Natsuki has no want to brave that dungeon again.**

**Natsuki sifts through the abyss of night, her mind as clouded ash the pink within her eyes.**

**Cars pass by,** their lights shining hope in the tunnel of black for the briefest of seconds before **leaving her behind within the cold wind of night.**

**Within the briefest of** illuminations, Natsuki catches a glance of the address.

N: Uhh the address is &&&%%

Y: Oh, I see, please spare me your patience; I shall arrive in half-hour.

N: Alrighty ^^

 

**Natsuki awaits in silence, the air has stalled, still and uncomfortable and even then, is a welcome adjustment as opposed to the swirling abyss.**

**Time passes in short, consecutive bursts and the light is yet to return, hidden amongst the cracks of broken windows and broken walls; dust suspended within the stalled air, still and unmoving; containing a light that bounces with a power, small, but a flicker in the dark; yet it still exists, clinging to the last vestiges of life, the hope of light returning to this land stricken by swirling darkness a faint but strong one. One rooted within fact.**

**Tired and afraid, her bones ache of hours gone, lost to cracks; yet like the suspended dust,  her bones radiate a strength unlike her, unlike the jaded pink eyes which rest hidden, gems obscured by coal.**

**And so Natsuki awaits, as she waits, she is reminded of the time spent awaiting for an item to spawn; her player model stuck in a sitting emote as the party talked amongst each other; sharing moments that could only be shared within the comforts presented behind the cover of screens and the distortions of microphones.**

**Natsuki had shared her worst fear within that call, within the thick abyss that entrapped her within brief and fearful hours.**

**Loneliness.**

**And within this moment, she is alone, cowering to the cracks for light, the hanging dust lost an abstracted and forgotten memory lost. Within this moment she is terrified.**

**Yet, she stands, awaiting in stilted silence, her breaths taken- like the time that surrounds her form- in short and consecutive bursts. In this moment, her face tired and alert stare straight ahead. There is a light within her, dim and fading against the oncoming onslaught of piling abyss, and yet it is still there, against all odds, this cycle is not over yet and there is no need for rekindling.**

**Within this moment, Natsuki is terrified**

**But as the** light grows closer, a comfort long forgotten within the bursts, endless and hopeful and as Natsuki draws nearer to the light, the fears of the abyss melt as she casts her final ‘Calm’.

 

The words surge within her lips, dancing upon the surface of her teeth, words which carry meanings old and new; a convergence of two worlds into one, the blending of paints.

The car is small, a blip within the confines of this street and yet the light that shines out from within the confines of its steel frame is so powerful that it only buffs the casted spell.

 

As the Warlock gazes upon the Rouge, understanding and appreciating each perfect imperfection that litters the driver’s face like that of a fine wine, aged and perfected over the course of a millennia; the faintest aftertastes of roses permeating within the cold air as the wind begins a new; yet this time it is welcomed.

 

The car comes to a halt and the door opens as Yuri stares upon the frail form of the Warlock.

 

Natsuki smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any criticisms, comments, or just want to tell me to open the door gently, then please be sure to do so in the comments ^^


	8. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsuki goes to Yuri's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three whole month of being dead I am here to inform those of you still left that I am not dead! I hope you all have had a good one and I'm not gonna give up on this just yet!

March 12th  
Monday 

There is a pop song that blasts it’s way within the innards of a car so clean, you’d almost think it’s a new purchase. Fuzzy dice hangs from the mirror, dancing in tandem with the song- their backdrops that of Abyss-stricken roads illuminated by headlights of the car- a lighthouse, shining through the fog (like that hasn’t been used a thousand times at this point.)  
The Warlock sits at the passenger’s seat, hands fumbling about in an effort to build walls which will ultimately come crashing down, an inevitable cycle of building and destroying and rebuilding again.  
The Rogue stares straight ahead, the silence in the car is palpable- thick almost. “I should go home.” The Warlock says after time passes and the roads become narrower, twisting and turning- a maze of misshapen buildings towering over the two like imposing giants, their levels obviously higher than what the two are capable of. 

“It’s all right, Natsuki.” The Rogue replies as she keeps moving forward, beads of sweat lie upon her face. There is a possibility that she knows of Natsuki’s life at home, of the Beast that lurks within, clinging to dripping abyss with each step of its hulking form. Though if she does know, she makes no noticeable movement to confirm this theory. 

Lost in mazes of twisting roads and sharpened thorns, Natsuki can only nod, the pricks upon her skin rising as fear washes over her face- though there is no real reason for this fear to arise. 

With a flick of her fingers, Natsuki attempts to cast courage once amore- this is only met with failure. 

The silence is thick. 

“Uh, Yuri, w-where the hell are we going?” Natsuki asks after more time has passed; the roads have o p e n e d up now, a never-ending stretch of highway that appears to be using the same amount of repeated textures every other hundred-feet or so, who knows? 

Is this the Magically Lewd Road Trip Adventure of Anon’s dreams? 

“My residence is a little ways from the city,” Yuri explains in a sentence that carries the aura of a continuation, but there is none to be found. “S-so, you bring every girl you find on an adventure outside of town?” Natsuki’s spaghetti falls out of her pocket as her grip shakes; the familiar red cloud of a blush forming upon the porcelain canvas of an exhausted face. 

“Granted, I do remember your asking to visit; but no, t-this is something new.” Yuri’s voice trembles at the ‘this’, an invitation to a myriad of possibilities, like stars hanging upon the abyss of night- beacons so that Natsuki may find her way out of this maze; this maze of possibility, of probability and everything in between- a maze that even the most skilled of wizards struggle to understand or attempt to comprehend, a forbidden and eldritch knowledge teeming with insanity unprecedented. 

Natsuki says nothing, her frown deepening as her reddened face only worsens, “Well, don’t say that- you’re supposed to come off all smooth and stuff!” Yuri does not know to how to reply to this, sweat beads forming upon her forehead as her very own walls begin to collapse, detoriating at a quickening rate, cracks spreading like jagged cobwebs upon glass. 

While Natsuki’s walls are made of thorns and bushes—flammable— Yuri’s shares a distinct resemblance to ice, a jagged castle off in the distance, tearing at the seams of the sky itself and melting at a slow but inevitable rate. Yuri hates the ice more than anything, it’s the worst thing she finds about herself, trapped in pools of drowning water, she is aware of that the waves of water flooding her lungs, like the ice, is inevitable. 

They play this game for what feels like hours, exchanging calculated blows at each other’s defences, testing the barriers and biding their time before an assault.  
Perhaps if Natsuki was aware of this game they share, she would’ve related it to Castle Assault- one of those games her party had played when farming Rodobans became a little two tedious, a line of defence against the oncoming waves of boredom which only hits those rare friend groups as they push past threshold of fucking-tired to less-fucking-tired; an endless uphill battle in which there is no clear victor, only who can stay up the longest.  
.  
.  
.  
. .  
.  
.

“Monika, take the left flank!” Sayori had once shouted as she commanded her troops- bulky paladins wielding great swords, troops Sayori had never thought she’d have as much fun playing with- to make a suicidal frontal charge into the heart of the castle they were sieging.  
The world around them is that of fire and death, the orange glow of a fire in its prime dancing in the forest behind them, corpses litter the battlefield, beacons in a sea of swaying grass- bloodied and ruined.  
Villages once stood beneath the castle, made of straw and rotting wood, they were obviously made as a necessary sacrifice for a greed-filled king to ensure to continued survival of failing city; clinging to its stone walls- desperate and hungry and afraid.  
Though these are now gone, virtual memories gone with the blowing smoke from their ruined remains- ones and zeroes with no hope of reclamation. At the very least until they start a new round, though these will simply change, a procedurally generated world- a ship of Thesus. 

The castle itself is created of jagged obsidian walls jutting out into the sky, blackened walls shining against the glow of flame, like refractions upon water. The innards of the castle finds itself a maze of metallic houses stacked upon each other exuding smoke standing at the forefront of an industrial revolution; in its prime, it would’ve been hard to distinguish which one is ideal. 

Monika takes left-flank, using her very own troop- a band of nimble archers who have grown on her as their fast and aggressive nature fits her very own- to scale the left buildings and taking advantage of the castle’s guards who have their attention focused on pouring boiling tar, contrasting the ethereal white-glow of the paladin’s hulking armour. 

“Natsuki, we need ordnance stat!”  
This is how it works, plans formed in the heat of the moment, a split-second decision originating from voices shouting the first semblance of a sentence brewing in their mind and curse-words as immersion wraps itself like a blanket; comforting and familiar, a blanket worn for nights on end. Rarely do they work, but when they do it result in an ensured victory, Natsuki often wishes she can participate like this, and she does- at the very least when The Beast isn’t around, she awaits those days with fervent admission, starved for the ability to scream at the top of her lungs. 

And she does, she sure do-  
“YEAH GIMME A FUCKIN’ SEC WOULD YA?”  
“FUCKIN HELL THERE’S A LOT TO THIS THING”  
“CAN YOU GUYS JUST KEEP THEIR FUCKING EYES ON YOU AS I GET IT SET UP?”

“Yeah sure.”  
“We’re on it! Let’s get this epic gamer bread~”

She doesn’t really know why she adds at least one “Fuck” to every sentence shouted- perhaps all those night spent browsing /h/ and /b/ has rendered her an offensive shell of her former self, and a small, inconsequential segment of herself hates that she does, but the word’s grown on her and her friends realise and accept this aspect of her. 

Natsuki’s troops are comprised of wizards- a not-so-different playstyle that she enjoys- often in these settings, Natsuki chooses magic characters, she says that this is done because, “I just enjoy magic systems!” but the two have a sneaking suspicion that this is not the case. That there is something deeper implanted upon her psyche like a lost whisper. 

Channelling a forgotten magic within them… yadda, yadda, magic-talk… and combing that forgotten magic, the wizards band together, creating a ball of pure energy which flashes like lightning in a bottle. The ball sways as the wizards struggle to manage the immense power bequiffed upon their brittle hands as their eyes glow like beacons in the orange glow of embers. 

The ball rises into the sky, the lighting within twisting and contorting, a never-ending struggle to maintain balance over a swirling vortex of blinding anger; a dam at the precipices of destruction, cracking and breaking with each passing second.  
And as the ball floats atop a castle that knows and accepts its oncoming death- a silent nod exchanged between soldiers as they defend against an impossible foe- Natsuki has never been more proud of herself, she is the catalyst, the beginning of a victory and as endorphins race her mind 

The ball drops 

And  
A sea of lightning 

Envelops the city. 

A lot of things happen once the ball pops. 

Thearcherslettheirarrows fly, ahailofarrowspeircingdyingsoldierstoocaughtupinanattackfrombothsides. 

Thepaladins,strongandcapableinspiteofthetarwhichblisterstheirskin,finallypushtheirwaythroughtheoffense. 

The -soldiers - twisting and contorting by lighting flooding their system; flesh sizzling an d j o ining t h e night’s a-ir. 

Death permeates in this world, drifting and dancing above a battlefield of searing and blistering flesh cut by swords and pierced by arrows.  
They never saw it coming, or perhaps they did- either way it’s over now and as the last of the kingdom’s residence lies dead upon a grave of dancing grass; the group rejoices. 

They love each other, that much is known, and they tell each other this; in those brief moments where the facades crumble and they can look each other in the face (or screen) and truly open up.  
. .  
. .  
. .  
. .Natsuki has never felt this lonely . .

“We’ve arrived.” Yuri finally says as the conversation dwindles to embers, like the remains of blistered and searing flesh. 

The house towers above them, it permeates an old and forgotten type of melancholy with its long, purple and slanted roofs and skinny frame; it’s windows rise like shapes in the night, beacons of light in abyss. If this house starred in a romcom, it would be the Repressed Pervert.

“Ah, it appears as the lights have returned.” Yuri says, a smile formed upon her face. They walk beneath cobblestone which crunches beneath each step giving the aura this house breathes a girthier and weightier feeling; an oppressive sneer at the two as Yuri fumbles for her keys. 

The innards, however, are warm and inviting; the orange lights overhead cast the living room in autumn; three seats line the living room, elegant and curved; the furniture stands with a beauty unlike the decrepit melancholy of the abyss which awaits with eager anticipation beyond the doors. Stacks of books litter corners of the room when the shelves could no longer support them, hundreds of books surround the furniture like little islands lost in a sea of autumn. A coffee table rests in the middle of it all, carved of mahogany, it accentuates the warmth of the yellow tones; giving it an almost coffee-shop-like aesthetic and in the middle of it all rests a fire place.

“A good environment will always lead to inspiration.” Yuri says as they enter the house.  
“Y-yeah…” The house is more than just a house to Natsuki, it’s a haven from the very first second her eyes fell upon it; it reeks of safety at an almost sickening rate and she loves it and she needs it and- and- 

This shit was so cash. 

“Would you like tea? Or perhaps coffee?” 

Lost in seas of orange leaves Natsuki is unable to hear,

“Natsuki?” 

“O-oh yeah, some coffee would be nice.” 

“Please, make yourself at home.” 

The buff which follows a request is the only thing that keeps her from sprawling out into a heaving mess of tears and screaming desperation. 

She sits upon the chair and a moan escapes her lips, the sun will be rising soon and finally given brief respite; her body collapses into a heap of exhaustion as the lack of sleep finally catches up to what remains. Her eyes- half opened- twinkle with a euphoria Natsuki has long since forgotten, like the tombs of Ratha- an expansion so bad that the devs immediately scrapped it a week after its initial launch- she has never felt this safe. 

Lost in a sea of autumn, of warm leaves which envelop her, Natsuki feels her eyelids grow heavy- so, so heavy. 

And as the scent of coffee exumes throughout the walls of the haven, the warlock falls prey to the rogue’s plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Criticisms? Wanna let me know which type of pasta I should make? Please be sure to leave a comment if so ^^


	9. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sayori is lost in a forest. This story goes no where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning gamers, been a while since I've updated but here I am with a brand new chapter.

March 13th

Tuesday

“You know what, fuck this.”

The flash of a crystal and the droppings of loot is all that it takes to break Sayori’s heart.

-16 feelings.

The world spins and swirls, swirling and spinning until she can barely distinguish between the spinning and swirling. Her heart hurt, thorns in her chest that grew deeper with each breath, each wheeze killing her little by little. Tears stream feel down her cheeks, fear strikes itself in her stomach causing her to heave.

 

If you were to ask her what got her into this situation, this labyrinth of fear and self-loathing and hatred, she’d smile, and say “what?” knowing full well what was meant by the question. Knowing the gravity behind each syllable, the worry in your eyes, yet she’d still say, “what?”

 

Lost in a forest, the Healer wanders without any real semblance of destination; a thick fog hangs in the air and fear thumps in her heart like drums.

Left without charges in her magika, she is aware of the futility of this run. The forests are notorious for the PK which transpires within them; entire wars break out underneath the cover of trees and going in alone is always a terrible idea. Well, she didn’t exactly enter alone, did she?

 

That thought only worsened the pit brewing within the depths of her stomach, an incomprehensible void in which there is no escape. She needed to get out of here, one way or another. The rare loot within her pouch glows and ethereal orange, this must be protected and she knowns that.

 

She knows she should just give up. Fall on the floor and let whatever passing player do her work for her.

But she needs to bring this loot, she needs to get to the borders and get out of this shithole.

 

Off in the distant fog, screams reverberate throughout followed by the clings and clangs of metal against metal, Sayori’s eyes widen with fear beneath the glow of her computer screens.

True, due to the verticality of the game and its extensive melee mechanics, she could technically win a fight on her own- she realizes this… but she didn’t actually bother to learn it.

-

         -

                   -

                            -

                                     “What do you mean you don’t level up your fight skills??”

Natsuki had once shouted at her in a Discord call the two of them had once shared. Monika was at work and Natsuki doesn’t go to school (at the very least she thinks she doesn’t, as Natsuki will sometimes go days without logging off). “I just don’t like fighting!” She shouted in retaliation, shielding her arms from her face, perhaps a small bit of her believed that she’d be casting a ward. Though those rolls always hit below 5.

-1 Feelings :<

“Listen, Sayo, I love you to death, but that’s retarded,” In these moments, when Natsuki would call out on something she deemed ‘retarded’, Sayori would listen on with admiration; she imagined that the warlock would deem her iconic witches hat and do that glasses thing hot anime boys usually do when brilliancy wraps itself around their (honestly kinda douchy) selves like a familiar blanket. “Your fight skills keep you alive when you’ve got nothing to rely on, every spell caster needs it! Especially healers!”

Yes, there was some layer of truth to it, hidden beneath Natsuki’s nasally screeches lies a fact that she knows she needs to understand.

 

 But Sayori doesn’t like violence, and she’d never want to cause pain to another.

 

 That’s part in the reason why she chose the Healer class, it was something she enjoyed, she enjoyed helping people more than anything.

 

Anything to keep the Coils from reaching her, from wrapping their sickly moist tendrils around her throat; a sensation she knows that she lusts after somewhere within the dark corners of psyche, praying that they reach and reach an-

 

 

 

“ I know you don’t like fighting, but there’ll be times where we won’t be around to help you!”

-

         -

                   -

                                               -

                                                                 -

                                               -

                                     -

         -        -        -

 

“Where is she?!”xxxxBlLsDpP67XXxx had shouted, his voice reverberating through the war-filled fog and echoing out into oblivion. He sword glows with an ominous and angry red, a stark contrast to the dark blues of the world around him- his armour is formed of edges, jagged things that jut out in strange angles and glow with the same, familiar red.

Sayori hides behind the large elder trees, fear consuming her form and adding to the well within her stomach, soon to overflow.

 

Time    passes    in   short ,  consecutive   bursts.

 

“Hey, listen, I don’t necessarily want to kill you.” His voice is squeaky and sharp, a direct contrast to the look he carries with himself, “J-just give me that shiny thing in your pouch and I’ll be on my way, muh-lady.”

 

The trees tower over the two like gods of rotten wood, staring down with judgemental eyes at sins from the present, past and future.

 

The air is stiff.

 

Sayori thinks to better times, uses them as a crutch, a desperate lifeline.

 

-

         -

                            -

                                                                 -                           -

The world which surrounds us is not that of Elderwood or blue fog, instead its of concrete; a familiar and dingy concrete which exudes a sensation of home that only those used to the bustling sounds of people moving from one place to another can get used to; can learn to love.

 

Within one of these buildings, towering over those beneath lies two people, suspended in a world of sheets and nothings said when the sky darkens and the only source of light is found in that person’s eyes. They lay there, not really cuddling (it’ s too hot for that), more like resting their arms atop of each other- this lazy hug that doesn’t really feel like a hug, but a message, a “Hey, I’m still here and I love you.” That means more than any gesture could.

 

“Hey.” Monika says as she stares into blue abysses.

“Hey…” Sayori says, like she wants to say more but doesn’t have the words, or if she does, can’t bring herself to say them.

“I don’t want you to go,” Monika says in that half-sentence way that only she can do.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sayori doesn’t want to say these words, yet they come to her like a second-nature at this point, “We can still talk on Discord, whenever you’re free.” This sentence shatters her and she knows it.

Monika smiles a tired smile, one which says so much yet so little.

“I know…”

Sayori feels the emptiness grow just a little larger as tears form upon her eyes.

Monika just pulls her closer.

-

         -                           -                

                   -

                            -                           -                                                       -

 

With     one

 

   large

S L A S H               -

 

 , the oak is sent -    -                 -                           -

-     --

-                               -

 --s oaring,  -

 

splin t e r s in the night,                -

 

 

 freckles against stars.

-

Had it been a couple inches off, Sayori’s head would’ve been sent flying alongside the splinters.

 

But the f o r c e 

                   Does.

 

Sayori doesn’t realize she’s running until she is. Racing against bushes, fear plastered over her face as trees s p l in t e r- - - - -

 

Corpses litter the world beneath her, surrounding her, an omen of the her oncoming demise. She’s too under levelled for this, but perhaps she could use the world to her advantage.

 

-                 -

-                 -

-                 -

-                 -

You see, a year into the game’s launch, the Devs realized the futility of low-levelled players against high-levelled players- which by no means was a bad thing; it just contorted the zone into a larger toxic-rape-fest than it had once been when the game launched as high-levels from different clans would band together to PK the lower levels; selling their loot to the market stalls in the zones outside- it didn’t amount to much, but the gold was still a profit nonetheless, so much so that the largest guilds have their roots firmly cemented in ganking.

 

In order to combat this, they started implementing traps (not _those_ traps, degenerate), randomly generated- it had been near impossible to figure out the pattern at which traps spawn. Sure, some asshole’s always going to rant in the forums that he’s found the pattern- but these never amount to much.

 

Arrows s o a r  overhead, lit with fire they act as beacons within the moody blue of this world, a direct contrast. Archers, that much Sayori knows and as a result knows she needs to keep moving.

 

They land else-where.

 

She can hear the clinks and clanks of her opponent reaching closer and closer, his sword screeching as it connects with trees 

 

The world to her advantage, she knows that he’s probably memorized the traps which are cycled through each week, no, she knows he has. But perhaps…

 

Fear strikes itself like arrows, piercing her skin as her eyes dart left, then right.

 

With a sicking thud and crack, she falls to the floor.

 

Thump

 

Thump

 

Thump

 

-                 -

-        His    -

-                 -

-        Sword        -

-                 -

                   -

-        Glints         -

-       

-        with -

-                 -

-        Malice

\--                -

 

“Hey, listen, you don’t have to do this anon…” Sayori says as she slowly backs forth, roleplaying may have never been her forte, but right now it was her only hope of leaving this forest alive.

 

The traps behind her

 

Beside her

 

Glint as well.

 

Trip wires, spikes, fire, all ripe for triggering in this circular clearing of trees in this battle field.

 

Death hangs in the air, suspended by cool breezes which flow periodically from the west, causing the grass to dance, the traps groan in warning.

 

Sayori could die at any moment, and she know this.

 

“Please, just listen to me, we can sort this out! I- I’ll help you find other people, people who have better gear!”

 

“I’m sorry, dear madam, but I must reap my rewards.” Sayori feels herself mentally groan to herself, _Neckbeard,_ and continues backing up.

 

Sayori’s hands wrap around the arrow, prepared to pull it out. Prepared to take the massive hit to her HP.

                                                                                                                -

-                           With any luck, the trap would spawn soon.                                                             

         -                                                                                            -

                   -

                            -                 --                         -

 

“The Forests alternate between 5 different traps in the centre- it uses three of them at a time. Sure, the rest of the Forest is fucking confusing, but this bit isn’t.” Natsuki had once said in a late-night Discord call, it had been a long night; one filled with laughing “Fuck you”s and their favourite game- blasting the Russian National Anthem while one of the party’s members uses the toilet.

It seems as though the party really enjoys their toilet humour.

If you knew Monika well-enough, then you’d be able to ask her the question: How do you all start calls?

She’d laugh, and say that they start the call using the restroom; and the call would be alive with the sounds of waterfalls.  

Besides the brief and platonic game of water sports without the added sexual tension common in these types of calls, the three would often just turn on their camera after finishing up their business.

Monika lives in a single dorm room- she’d been lucky enough to have her roommate drop out in the middle of the first semester- a small rectangular thing with posters of many colours plastered upon the ceiling. In addition to this, anime figurines rest upon the erected shelf which hangs above her bed. Due to this non-roommate situation, she’s allowed her inner weeb to take charge; spreading its tendrils around the room in something akin to the Necromorph biomass of the Dead Space Series- God rest its soul.

Due to the state which the room lies in, you’d expect her major to be something useless- like Creative Writing, or that other major no one talks about; but no, she’s currently studying a major within the STEM fields.

 

Monika is intelligent, not book-smart, not getting-a-4.5-without-even-trying-smart (though she certainly was capable of doing so); no, Monika’s real smarts originate from her ability to examine real-world situations, make her decisions, and talk about them with such grace, such confidence that it would leave the most stubborn of debaters questioning their own viewpoints.

This was what made Monika stand out, this was what got her that scholarship and would continue to carry her throughout the rest of her life.

 

Sometimes Natsuki couldn’t help but hate her for that, how easy her life had turned out to be.

 

“Good afternoon Gamers,” She’d say knowing full well that it was late at night in their time zone.

 

Sayori, however, lives in this giant room; just from looking at the bed she lies upon one would be able to realize that she is exuberantly- almost stupidly- rich. In addition to this revelation, would come to the another almost immediately think: _Christ, her room is messy._ Bits and pieces of clothing materials lay scattered upon the very bed which she lays upon, papers crumbled and discarded and pencils, and alcoholic markers, and sketchbooks, so many sketchbooks- almost too many sketchbooks.

 

Sayori’s an artist, the best Natsuki’s ever known, and is often tasked with drawing the latest adventures the party embarks upon. If she were to shift her camera to the left-hand side, you’d see her wall, affectionately named ‘The Wall’. An area of pure unadulterated creativity, a showcase of her achievements plastered upon the wall she sleeps against. In fact, in the middle rests a watercolour retelling of her clutch against The Place Where Flesh Sings, affectionately named, ‘The Penis Monster’ by Monika.

 

The painting is beautiful, to say the least, it nails this perfect balance between both a sketch and a painting, it’s composition paints a picture of Sayori’s player model in the sky, her eyes staring into monster’s piano. From within her staff (positioned against the leather of her chest) glows the ethereal light of a magic missile mid-cast. It’s base a round light with a sharpened point escaping from within in the shape of a star. Tendrils escape from within the cracked chitin of the creature’s  for, all aiming towards her, their spikes glinting the moonlight behind her- the blue sand a distant thought.

 

Whenever she’d be asked about it, she’d smile and stare off into the ehteral glowing white of the moon and you’d be able to see the moment being recounted within the confines of the blue abysses.

 

Well, you already know what Natsuki’s room is like.

 

Anyways! Back to the true purpose of this flashback.

 

“All right, thanks Nat, I’ll take it from here,” Monika interjects just before Natsuki’s screeches begun, “yeah, so five traps: spikes, fire, poison arrows, tendrils, and a Dedramoron Apex.” She stops, allowing the last trap to hang in the air, keeping the suspense for the meme. Sayori listens, entrapped within the game-speak emitting from her mouth.

 “That is what you’re hoping for, when your mana’s out, you run into the centre, and you pray that RN-Jesus decides to bless you.” Monika says, her voice carrying the weight of five-thousand stones. 

 

Sayori has never forgotten that fact, even after all those years.  

                           

-                                                                                   -

         -                                                                -

                   -                                             -

                            -        “Just give it up.”          -

Her enemy says, the katana in his hands glows an angry red, deepening the shadows upon his ebony armour.

 

Sayori knows the signs which trigger the trap, the rustling of trees, the shaking of earth, the growls of a beast too old for the shackles of existence.

 

She waits in silence.

 

For was feels like hours as her enemy charges, she simply waits, perhaps resigning herself to her fate, her death, the restart of all of this. The uselessness of it all.

 

He charges, red glinting in the moon light, ready to take its next life, to reap the reward.

 

Sayori waits for a trap she knows will not trigger.

 

It doesn’t. Trigger, that is.

 

She is stabbed.

 

He rests his hand on her shoulder.

 

“Any last words then?”  
  
“Yeah. Go…” The words surge within Sayori’s throat, a distant anger untapped before, as tears stream down her eyes, Sayori realizes that this is what she’s wanted to say since the start of this nightmare; “… Fuck yourself!”.

 

He pulls her closer, letting the eldritch steel fall deeper into her chest and she eyes go dull and the last of her HP leaves her body and with a single sputtering cough of blood

 

She.    Is.    Dead.

 

The coils wrap around her corpse as her loot as well as Monika’s discarded loot finally leave her body.

 

Sayori logs out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticisms, wanna tell me which burger I should get? Send em in the comments!


End file.
